


Living In The City

by ThereWillBeCubes



Category: Free!
Genre: AU, Gen, M/M, city AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-02-20 20:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2442722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereWillBeCubes/pseuds/ThereWillBeCubes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto can't sleep, and the night air is little comfort. The clicking of a lighter catches his attention, as does his unusual neighbour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:
> 
> Just a MakoHaru drabble! A post going around on tumblr listed a bunch of AUs people want to see and the Fire Escape idea really caught my eye. I really can't get enough of this pairing. c:

Perpetually bright nights, only slightly muffled by the poor streetlights of the neighbourhood, not known for it's high-class living. The window stands open, light green curtains fluttering in the slight breeze. Far-off sirens and honks, yells and dull thumps of bass trickle in, but I am used to it, feeling unperturbed. My hands are folded behind my head, eyes closed as I lay still on a battered fold out bed. Folded glasses sit nearby on a low coffee table, propped up on old newspapers.

I let out a sigh, and crack open an eyelid, checking a slim phone in my hand. It's 1 am.

Hauling myself up, and shaking my hair out, I sigh again, looking at the tiny apartment. A bike is propped against the locked door, and thick textbooks pile up on every surface. Empty noodle cups and ramen packets fill the waste basket, the kitchenette itself empty.

It's the same every evening.

“Fresh air...” I mutter, and wearing only a rumpled shirt and shorts, I duck out the window onto the fire escape.

The metal grille beneath my feet is cold, but I don't mind. I breathe in deeply, sighing with each exhale. How long was my course? Two more years?

There's a click. I look around for the source, glancing nervously at the railing.

Click click. Above me.

Startled, I look at the next landing, seeing another leaning on the railing, a thin trail of smoke issuing from a cigarette in their mouth. Short black hair sweeping along his forehead, lean arms and legs, pale in the night, and deep blue eyes fixed on mine.

“Oh! I- I didn't see you there,” I stammer, wilting slightly at the rather deadpan expression of the other boy, “good evening.”

“Hey,” he says, blowing smoke out from his cheeks, “Makoto, right?”

“Uh, yes, sorry, I don't know your-”

“Haru.”

I was sure it was my turn to speak, but I couldn't think of anything to say. Haru fished in his jacket pocket, before producing a pack of cigarettes.

“Want one?” he asks, rather baldly. I balk, waving my hands.

“N-no thanks! I-”

“Don't smoke? Yeah, didn't really think so.”

_Wha-?_

Haru takes another drag, gazing above into the night sky. The smoke is bluish-grey and smells rather acrid.

“What, what did you mean by that?” I ask, feeling half confused, half insulted. Haru raises an eyebrow, before stepping lightly down the stairs. I notice I am quite a lot taller than this... Haru, but can't help but be a little intimidated by his unreadable expression.

“You look too fresh,” he replies, shrugging, “even the way you talk, it's so soft.”

I splutter a little, indignant, before Haru gives me a slight smile.

“It's not a bad thing, Makoto,” he continues, “just a thought.”

Again, I am at a loss for words. I usually find it too easy to talk with others my own age, people drawn to my smile and kind way of speaking. Haru doesn't move, however, silently smoking until he is down to the butt. Crushing it on the railing, he flicks it with a slender finger over the edge, and we both watch the orange filter tumble to the ground. Haru turns, putting his elbows on the railing.

“That your apartment?” he asks nonchalantly, looking into the open window.

“Yes,” I say, “it's pretty small but-” I stop halfway, realising Haru is now letting himself inside.

“Hey!”

Climbing in, I see Haru with one hand on an arm of the couch, and in the other is one of my textbooks.

“Haru-”

“Coaching? You want to be a coach?”

“Haru, yes, but that's not the point, why did you just-”

“You don't seem like the type to tell people the important things about yourself. This was easier.”

He puts the book back down, before scanning the rest, in all of three seconds. I groan as he picks up my glasses, before squinting through them. I stare at the pitted floorboards, waiting for it end. Suddenly aware of light breath on my face, I look up and almost jump at Haru's face only inches from mine. He's holding the glasses.

“Go on, I haven't seen them on before.”

Resigning myself to it, I put them on. The familiar weight settles on the bridge of my nose as I push them into place.

“Dorky, right?”

“No, they suit you,” Haru says, “bring out your eyes.”

I quickly take them off, putting them back on the table, and Haru looks slightly disappointed.

“I think that's enough,” I say, holding up my hands in supplication, “I'm really not that interesting.”

Haru shrugs.

“Humble people say that all the time, you'd be surprised.”

He gives me an unreadable look, before taking my hand. I feel oddly hot around my face.

“Well, come on,” Haru says, apparently unaware of the effect he's created.

“Come, on?”

He turns, and smiles.

“You showed me yours, I'll show you mine.”

-

Haru's apartment is messy in a different way. While mine is covered in print, his is covered in paint. An easel and collection of brushes sit by the window, a half-finished sketch upon it, surrounded by the only empty floorspace. There is a futon, rumpled and covered in clothes, mainly blue and black, I notice. The smell of fish and coffee lingers in the air.

“Uhh, it's, very nice, Haru,” I say awkwardly, and he gives me a side smile.

“I know it's messy, I like it messy,” he says, collecting a bunch of paper from around the only table, “no need to be polite.”

“Why does it smell like fish?!” I blurt out, and Haru laughs.

“I really like fish,” he says, “and fish smell... lingers.”

“I see.”

Whether it was because he shamelessly did the same to me, or just my curiosity, I picked up some of the sketches around me.

Several were simple pencil and pen drawings, others rather elaborate pieces painted in, I gave them a sniff, coffee. Faces, animals, plants, all beautifully depicted in simple strokes.

“These- these are really wonderful Haru!” I say, smiling at him genuinely, and he shrugs, before glancing at the easel. He gives his head a shake, before covering it with some more paper.

“Huh, don't like people seeing unfinished work?” I ask, tilting my head. I noticed he looks somewhat shifty.

“Not really, that one isn't... ready.”

I stand up, and his eyes jerk away from mine.

“I'm sure it's fine, Haru,” I say, before glancing at the easel again. It's almost half out of the window, really, the fire escape propping up one of the legs. Haru doesn't move as I walk over to it, and gingerly lift the cover. I can feel his gaze on me as I see what is underneath.

“Wait...” I say slowly, before removing it entirely, “this is me.”'

And it was me, from the side, standing at the railing. But it looked different. The city around me did not look cold and stark, instead warm, the light suffusing around my neck and shoulders, around a face with a half-smile and bright, beautiful green eyes...

“Haru...” I say slowly, not really believing what I was seeing. I turn and look at him, and he looks unsure for the first time.

“I did say I had never seen those glasses before... you really are soft... oblivious,” Haru replies quietly, and he turns his face away, eyes lidded.

“It's beautiful, I love it, Haru,” I say gently, walking over, and taking his hand. It really is delicate in my fingers.

He finally faces me again, and his eyes widen at my smile. I don't move as he touches my face with his other hand.

“I haven't seen this smile before,” he said quietly, “when I first saw you, you were crying. I didn't know why, but my heart... ached.”

He sighs, his hand slipping out of mine. I was quite unsure of what to say. I could feel the breeze tickling the back of my neck and we both stood there silently.

“Are you hungry?” Haru asks suddenly. I start.

“It's probably about 2 in the morning, Haru,” I say weakly, looking around for the time.

“Time is a construct,” he says dismissively, “if you're hungry now, eat now.”

“I don't think that's how it works, Haru...” I reply, watching as he turns on a small grill and plucks two slices of fish from the fridge.

Haru doesn't say anything, picking up an apron from a hook.

“You won't care when you're eating this fish, Makoto. Especially when your diet until now has been noodles.”

-

When had I fallen asleep?

I open my eyes slowly, aware that it is soft and warm. Soft sunlight is filtering in through the gap in the blue curtains, and fresh air reached me, tinted with the scent of coffee. I sit up, to see Haru standing over me, a mug in each hand. His face was again blank, and I sat quickly upwards.

“Here,” he said, holding out one of the mugs. He sits down next to me on the covers, sipping quietly.

“Thank-thankyou Haru,” I say, sniffing. I sneak a glance at him, and for the first time, he looked... content.

“You got very... sleepy after eating, I guess it was your first decent meal in a while,” Haru said, “so you slept here.”

I turned my face away in embarrassment, but there was no way he missed how bright red I went.

“Don't worry,” he said lightly, “nothing happened.”

“B-but my apartment is right below us, I should've just gone home...”

“But you had a good sleep here, I don't see the problem.”

“Agh, Haru!”

“Besides,” he says, looking over at me, eyes seeming to sparkle in the morning light, “you're great inspiration.”

I blush even harder, but can't help but smile.

Putting down my now-empty mug, I stand up, holding out my hand.

“Come on, Haru.”

I pull him outside, and he doesn't protest. Judging by the light blue-grey sky and the soft sun, it is early morning. I take a deep breath of air and smile. I can feel Haru's warmth next to me, and when I look at him, his eyes are on my face.

“It really is a beautiful morning, isn't it, Haru?”

He smiles too, and I notice how his eyes crinkle ever so slightly as he does, a tiny blush on his cheeks.

“Yes, it really is, Makoto.”

 


	2. Stay Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had this sitting around almost-done for about three weeks, so I finally finished it up properly. I didn't intend for this AU to be more than a one-shot, but it's really enjoyable to write C:

“Wait, wait,” he says around the cigarette in his teeth, before pulling it out, smoke wafting into the air as he laughed, “all of them?'

I nodded and laughed too, feeling my face grow a little hot as I remembered a blond boy stripping off his clothes in excitement, running into the ocean spray.

“His parents were pissed, they got so mad at us,” I said, “and it was a public beach, so we had this other family screaming at him too, and he just didn't care. Kept saying that it was night time so they would have to look hard to see anything.”

“Sounds like my kind of night,” Haru says, eyes crinkled in mirth as silent laughter shakes his shoulders. I smiled, sighing.

“So that day I learned, never give Nagisa free reign with alcohol, ever.”

Haru grinds the butt out into an ashtray, before leaning back in his chair and giving me another small smile.

I wonder how he could stand to wear black clothing on a day like today, even though the trees shaded the cafe's tables, it was still stiflingly hot. As far as I could see, there were wilting students lying under trees, huddling in the air-conditioned cafe, fanning themselves with notebooks.

But Haru looked pretty comfortable all the same, relaxed in a simple black top that revealed the tips of a tattoo on his right shoulder, above a lean arm that belied more strength than he usually showed-

“Hmm?” Haru asked, following my gaze, “like what you see?”

My face flushed, and I spluttered.

“U-uhh, I was just wondering about your shoulder,” I said, pointedly ignoring his amused smirk, “is that a tattoo?”

“Sure is, I have a friend with a parlour downtown,” he said, shrugging the sleeve down a little, twisting so I could see it; a stark black dolphin, shark, and orca, circling each other, the only colour their unnaturally bright eyes, blue, red and green.

“Wow.”

_Really eloquent there, Makoto._

“I sometimes help him with designs, so he offered one for free,” Haru says, slipping the cloth back over it, “he chose the colours though, but I like the result, I guess. Rin's pretty good at what he does.”

“I-it looks really good! Just, uh, why did you pick-” I stammered, and he looked mildly curious.

“Why those animals? I've always liked the ocean,” Haru says, idly stirring his coffee, before his impassive gaze settles on me again, “Dolphins can be capricious, the shark is pretty much Rin's spirit animal, and the orca is related to the dolphin, and are the rulers of the seas.”

His eyes flash a little, his smile becoming mischievous.

“They also eat sharks, sometimes,” he says, “my little joke. He's such a hothead, it's great.”

“I see...” I say, always put off a little by how utterly unreadable Haru is.

“You want one?”

“What! No! My mom would kill me-”

He laughs, giving me a look that isn't condescending, but still makes me feel like I've said something... adorable. I flush, and Haru leans forward, hand reaching across the table, eyes glimmering.

“Hey, Makoto-” he starts, before he is cut off by someone calling my name.

“Yo! Makoto!”

We both turn towards the sound; coming from the direction of the gym. A tall, pink-haired guy is striding towards us, one arm waving, the other curled around a basketball.

“Kisumi!” I say delightedly; waving him over. I don't miss the way Haru's lip curls slightly, and he slides back into a deadpan expression as Kisumi reaches the table, his eyes boring into Kisumi's violet ones. I am a tiny bit impressed at how utterly unperturbed Kisumi looks when he extends a hand to Haru, despite the still-as-stone look he is receiving.

“Hey, I'm Shigino Kisumi,” he says cheerfully, and for a moment I think Haru isn't going to take his hand, but after a beat shakes it, before saying “Haru.” in what I think might be the most blunt voice yet. I feel suddenly tense as Kisumi sits down in between us, his grin going from easy to amused.

“Makoto! I haven't seen you for a week, man!” he says, putting an arm around my shoulder and laughing, “you've been studying your college life away, haven't you?”

I laugh and shake my head, but the arm around my shoulders doesn't feel right. I usually find it so easy to get along with Kisumi, his openness and lightness so complementary to my own traits, but today I feel uneasy, Haru silently watching the exchange, impossible to read.

“I haven't seen you around campus before, Haru,” Kisumi continues, smiling, “you go here, or are you one of Makoto's friends?”

Haru pulls out his cigarette packet, putting another between his teeth. He methodically lights it, eyes narrowed.

“I don't go to college,” he says, leaning back again, “I live above Makoto.”

“Oh! Okay,” says Kisumi, leaning towards him, ignoring the smoke trailing from the tip, “what do you do? Like do you work anywhere, or are you a deadpan snarker professionally?”

“Kisumi!” I admonish, slapping him on the wrist. He just grins at me, before waving his hands.

“Joking! I'm joking,” he says, waving his hands, before pushing back some of his sweat-slicked hair, “sorry!”

Haru just blows smoke out of his cheeks, looking supremely unconcerned.

“Seriously though, you should come out more often, Makoto, there are some great parties at the dorms, you could crash at mine if you wanted.”

I certainly don't miss the wink Kisumi gives me, squeezing my shoulder a little, and I suddenly understand why he bugged me to join the basketball team, why he hung out with me despite only sharing one subject, and I struggle to keep my face from going any redder. He couldn't possibly- he was so popular with female students-

“I- I don't know-” I splutter, looking for an out. Kisumi's grip tightens a fraction, and his stare becomes... oh god, he looked like he was hungry. I swallow thickly.

“Hey, it'll be fun, I could introduce you to some people, come on, we never hang out anymore...”

“There might be a reason for that,” Haru interjects, “I think desperation is Makoto's turn off.”

I could have died then and there and it would've been for the best.

Kisumi's smile doesn't drop, but his eyes glitter malevolently as he and Haru stare at each other.

“Hmm, and I wouldn't think emotionless bad boy would do it either, Haru,” he says, in a teasing voice edged with the slightest malice; I realise how odd it is for people to discuss you like you're not there. Especially about... this.

Haru doesn't reply, but if looks could kill he would be a murderer in moments. Kisumi removes his arm.

“Yo, Makoto, I'll see you after class tomorrow,” he says, picking up his gym bag and turning his back on Haru, dropping his voice to a low murmur, “think about it, yeah?”

I feel my face burning as he leaves, and I put my head in my hands in embarrassment.

“Makoto,” Haru says, but he doesn't sound indifferent, he sounds... angry, “that Kisumi guy is a dick.”

“I can't believe you said that!” I reply through my fingers, not wanting to look at him. I can feel the back of my neck burning, and the ambient heat becomes that much sharper.

“You were clearly uncomfortable!” Haru shoots back, “and you're too soft to say anything!”

I take my hands away to glare at him, and I feel a tiny savage thrill at the guilt that moves across his face.

“I'm always too soft for you, aren't I?” I say, half angry, half hurt, “poor soft Makoto, can't do anything himself.”

“I didn't mean that, Makoto,” Haru says quickly, but I keep going, my usual voice of reason and politeness fading into my upset. I don't even know where the flood is coming from, but I don't have time to think, as it consumes restraint and I continue to spit words at him.

“You mean everything you say, isn't that why you take so long to say it?”

“Makoto-”

“Yeah, you're right, I'm just a pure, innocent little boy that doesn't understand the big bad world, huh, Haru? Well maybe I'm happy not smoking and getting tattoos and being colder than a block of fucking ice.”

He looks momentarily shocked, and guilt washes into me. It seems to negate the hurt that had consumed me moments earlier, and I stare at him in horror. I don't remember the last time I had been this rude. I can't remember the last time I had sworn at someone like that. I felt sick.

I expect him to be angry, I want him to be angry.

Instead, he stands, and noticing the dead cigarette in hand, drops it to the ground. His face is distant as he shrugs on his shoulder bag.

“Haru, I'm sorry-”

He looks me right in the eye, and I still can't tell what he is feeling, I still can't read him. His eyelids shutter and he turns, walking away silently.

 

I can see the barest dot of blue staring at me from his shoulder as he leaves.

 

-

 

“Haru?”

I tap on his window again, gently. The curtains are drawn, and I press my ear to the glass; straining to hear any sound. He is either not home, or very good at keeping silent. I sigh before treading back down to my apartment.

I haven't seen him in three days.

In the evenings, I would come straight home from university, only occasionally replying to the multitude of texts Kisumi was sending me. He had apologised several times, but I couldn't bear to be near him. I would try to study, cook noodles, drink tea, listening out for the telltale creak of the fire escape outside, the smell of smoke through my open window, his sighing as he exhaled, anything.

In the mornings I would make too much coffee, drinking it outside, hoping his window would slide open and I could greet him with a smile, but I had ended up only cutting my classes very fine.

I didn't like to admit it to myself, but I had been a tremendous jerk and I'd hurt a friend, one of my only real friends.

But even as the idea passed my mind, another voice would ask if I was really that important to him, I'd only known the guy for just over a month, I didn't even know that much about him. Did I actually upset him, or was he just tired with me, goofy, ignorant Makoto?

I didn't know which thought hurt more.

I fell asleep on the fourth night; it was a Friday and I had never been happier to get home, with my phone in one hand and the other curled around an empty coffee mug. I had been feeling especially sleepy and drowsy all day, and even coffee hadn't been able to force me to study.

It was still dark when I woke up. I checked my phone, it was 2 am. I blinked owlishly, rubbing at my tired eyes. I felt hot, sweaty, despite the open window, and I staggered towards the sink for a glass of water.

 

“Fuck off, it's not like that!”

I paused in the middle of drinking; a voice I didn't recognise... outside? I shake my head, trying to clear it of it's fuzziness.

“Sure, he wants a tattoo of a whale shark all of a sudden, just because?”

Haru. I almost jump out the window there and then, but I stop near the billowing curtains. The moving cloth disorients me and I blink rapidly, vision sluggish.

“Urk, I don't care what you say, I swear we're just friends, fuck,” the other voice says, but he doesn't sound too angry, “besides, Sousuke's too fucking humourless, can you imagine it? That serious face staring up at you when you're trying to get off?”

“So you have imagined it, then, Rin.”

“ARGH, FUCK OFF.”

It sounded so easy, the banter between them. No stuttering, no spluttering, just... whatever they wanted to say.

“I retract my previous statement, get with Sousuke, you need to get laid, all that pent up frustration, it's not good for you.”

The scent of smoke has reached me, but it smells different, wrong. Nausea rises in my stomach.

“Says you!” Rin laughs, “when's the last time you even smiled at anyone?”

“Wednesday.”

I feel an odd constriction around my chest.

My confusion is mirrored in Rin's “Huh?”

Haru sighs.

“Met a guy Wednesday. College swimmer, vermilion hair, really tall, really hot,” Haru says, and I could feel my breath choking up, “he was pretty good.”

I go to slide the window shut, hands trembling.

Guess it was the latter. I feel tears prick my eyes as I wonder how long he has just been... putting up with me.

“Well... shit,” Rin says, and he sounds more than a little surprised, “okay then. This really tall, really hot swimmer got a name?”

“Mikoshiba Seijuuro.”

“You going to see him again?”

“Maybe.”

“Always so enthusiastic.”

 

The window is too heavy to close all the way, so I simply pull the curtains. I stumble back to bed, pressing my face into the pillow. I really don't feel well, I realise, as dizziness overtakes my head.

I try to sleep, but the nausea in my stomach is making it too hard, and my throat burns. I take steady breaths, feeling hot over my skin, but deeply cold in my bones.

“Rin, he's probably asleep, don't-”

I hear a sharp tapping on my window. I try to raise my head, to say something, but my tongue feels like it is covered in moss.

“Well, you never shut up about this guy, I want to meet him.”

“It's not a good time,” Haru's voice says quietly, and I moan softly, trying and failing to get up. My phone buzzes lightly in my hand, but I can only weakly open it. I squint at the screen, then realise I'm not wearing my glasses.

“Oh come on, he's a college student, they have fucked up sleep schedules, right? Ah!”

I hear the window slide open and Haru make a warning noise as feet tap onto the floor.

“Rin-”

“Hey, you Makoto..?” a figure stands over me, a man about my age, with long burgundy hair tied up in a little ponytail, and strange red eyes squinting in a confused fashion.

“No offense, but you look a little sick,” he says, and he puts a hand on my forehead, grimacing. I see a line of oddly sharp teeth in his mouth.

“Holy fuck, you're burning up man.”

“What?”

Haru moves quickly from the window, leaning over me, pressing the back of his hand to my head. He frowns, before grabbing the blankets and tugging them up over me. His hand slides down to my cheek, wiping at a bit of sweat there.

“Rin, can you go get my bed cover? Just toss all my shit off of it,” Haru asks quietly and Rin nods, clambering out the window.

“Can you sit up?” Haru asks quietly, and I nod. He slips an arm around my back as I struggle upwards, before pressing a glass to my lips.

“Drink that,” he says, tipping water into my mouth, soothing my throat. He glances at the open phone, looking at the screen. His mouth twists in distaste and he snaps it shut, other hand moving up to push my hair out of my eyes.

“Why did you go?” I croak, feeling tiny points of electricity where his fingertips rest against my skin.

“I am not good for you,” Haru almost whispers, his beautiful eyes... sad, “I thought it would be better if... I just didn't see you anymore.”

“That's... not true,” I murmur, and the pressure of his fingers is soothing, relaxing. My eyelids droop as my exhaustion catches up to me.

“Then I'll stay,” he says simply, and I slip into sleep.

 

-

 

His apartment has changed, slightly. For the first time, sitting amongst the general art debris, sit several bottles of alcohol, and little shot glasses. Rin quickly puts them on the bench, muttering that we'll trip or cut our feet open on the thin glass. Haru gives him a glance, before returning to his grill, watchful of his mackerel. On the stove beside him, a simply delicious-smelling curry bubbles away.

“When's it ready?” Rin asks, giving it a sniff, going to dip a finger in. Haru smacks his hand away.

“That's for Makoto,” he warns, poking at his fish. Rin looks outraged.

“All of it?! He can't eat that much, can you?” he asks, looking at me. I shake my head.

“Makoto goes first,” Haru clarifies, tasting it. He frowns, before adding a pinch of something. I don't even know half the herbs and spices on the rack. Rin watches him hungrily.

“Well, I'm starving, so it better be soon!” he says, flopping onto the lounge.

“You're lucky, Makoto,” Rin grumbles, shooting Haru a look, “he never makes my favourite food.”

I feel my neck grow hot, and not just from the fever.

“Makoto's sick, and curry is good for you when you're sick.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rin mutters, but it seems good-natured, simple ribbing. I smile at him, and he gives me a tired smile back, putting his feet on the table.

“Has Kisumi stopped messaging you incessantly?” Haru asks, testing the rice, his voice level. I frown.

“Not quite, he sent me one this morning, but I told him I was too sick to hang out.”

“You could tell him to fuck off?” Rin suggests, idly doodling something on a piece of paper.

“I couldn't do- ergh.”

I start coughing in the middle of my protest, and Rin gives me a few hard pats on the back. I look at his drawing; a weird, wide-mouthed sea creature.

“What's that?” I ask, curious. Rin flushes a red to rival his eyes and tries to stuff it into his pocket. Haru's hand is on his wrist before he can try.

“Whale shark,” Haru says, smirking slightly, “what about you, Rin? Has Sousuke stopped texting you?”

“F-fuck off!”

“I take that as a no.”

Haru begins to serve up, filling three bowls with rice.

“Clear the table, if you would be so kind,” he says, turning off the stove, and Rin sweeps an arm over it, scattering papers everywhere, giving Haru a challenging look. He simply sets the bowls down on the empty space, raising an eyebrow at the redhead, before putting green curry in front of me. I scoot closer, giving it a sniff. Even through my mostly blocked nose, it smells wonderful. Rin lets out a moan of happiness.

“Don't cry over my food, now,” Haru says, handing him chopsticks. That earns him a murderous look.

Haru is watching me, mackerel untouched. I pick up some rice and curry, before putting it into my mouth. Flavour floods my tongue, and I feel my airways clearing.

“This- this is amazing!” I say, and Haru looks pleased. Rin pretends to gag, before shovelling food into his own mouth at high speed.

“Yef,” he says, mouth stuffed with food, “iff preffy goof, I gueff.”

 

-

 

It doesn't take very many drinks for Rin to pass out. Haru gives a long suffering sigh, settling him on the lounge, trying to close his mouth so he doesn't drool all over the fabric.

“He's almost as bad as Nagisa,” I say quietly, blowing on my tea. Haru squints at me, his face a little flushed.

“Yeah, well, he didn't try to skinny-dip in the ocean just now, did he?” he replies, padding over to the bed.

“I said almost.”

He sits down shakily next to me, I can smell the vodka mingled with fish and smoke on his breath. He'd only agreed to a couple, and had stopped when Rin had taken a swig straight from the bottle. It was all downhill for him there.

“He shouldn't be drinking, he's got work tomorrow,” Haru murmurs, leaning against me, slipping his hand into my own. I involuntarily stiffen at the contact, and he frowns.

“What's the matter?” he asks, and I can see the pink blush on his cheeks.

“You're drunk.”

“Not really, I only had a few,” Haru replies, “I know what I'm doing, Makoto.”

“Tipsy then, but-”

He cuts me off with a kiss. My eyes widen, then close, as I lean into him, lean into his lips, the flesh hot against my own. His tongue slips out, and I open my mouth wider, allowing him entry. He moans, before breaking away, splaying his fingers against my chest.

“Makoto,” he whispers, voice husky, eyes gazing into my face, before moving closer again. I gently take his face in one hand and I shake my head.

“You'll get sick too,” I sigh, _he probably already is sick._ Sharing saliva would do that.

Haru looks frustrated, slipping a hand under my shirt. Wherever he presses against my fevered skin, he leaves trails of fire, slipping further and further down until his fingers are trailing the waist band of my pants. I take his hand gently.

“I'm pretty annoyed about it too,” I say, and he huffs, before noticing the tea, untouched.

“Drink, you need to get better, quickly,” he says bluntly, pushing it into my hands.

I sipped it quietly, before addressing the twisting in my chest.

“Mikoshiba?” I said softly, and Haru visibly winced.

“It was a one-night thing, we were both lonely,” he blurted, grabbing my hands, beseeching me.

“I... just wanted to know why,” I say softly, looking into the depths of the tea. His hands tighten slightly around mine.

“He- he reminded me of you, at first,” Haru says, sounding slightly breathless, “graciously tall, kind, this... energy and light about him.”

I stay very still as Haru sighs.

“But he wasn't you... I... urgh, he just wasn't you, okay?”

I kiss the top of his forehead, and he looks up in surprise, bumping against my chin. His eyes are slightly glazed.

“Stay here,” he says simply, and I nod.

His futon is a little crowded with the two of us, but he pulls the covers and curls against me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Is it true college kids' sleep schedules are really fucked up?” Haru murmurs into my chest, slurring a little. I hum.

“Yeah, completely. But I'm glad.”

“Huh, why?”

He props himself up on his elbow, looking curiously at me. I gently brush his hair from his eyes.

“Because if they weren't... I wouldn't have met you.”

“I was painting you, Makoto,” Haru says, smirking a little, “we were going to meet.”

I smile back, and his entire face immediately softens, a new blush creeping onto his cheeks, ocean eyes shimmering.

“I'm still glad.”

Haru puts his head by mine, and his the little upturn of his lips is softly sweet.

“Me too.”

 

 

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> therewillbecubes.tumblr.com
> 
> listened to Hilltop Hoods and Thundamentals for this one, mainly. And Tkay Maidza.  
> I find music influences my writing somewhat, and it definitely makes the whole process smoother C:  
> hope you enjoyed!


	3. Christmas Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow so I update my Yandere fic before my Christmas add-on dumbfic, it's not even the 25th anymore in Australia as I update this, I lost track of time. But yeah wrote some of this yesterday, most of it today, so if it seems a little rambling or disjointed, you know why. It's because I'm terrible at editing.
> 
> But still, enjoy Christmas silliness (but not all silliness O -O)

I keep my phone pressed to my ear, harder than need be, as if the speaker alone can take me all the way home.  
“But you have fun dear, we're sorry about all this,” my mother's voice strains with feigned cheeriness over her upset, a tone I've heard out of my own mouth so many times. Like right now.  
“I will, I'm having lunch with a friend,” I say, “you all have a good holiday, okay?”  
“We will, you too, dear,” she replies, and in the background I can hear my brother and sister shouting goodbyes.  
“Bye onii-chan! Merry Christmas!”  
I sigh when I hang up, putting the phone next to a pile of homework.   
Christmas away from my family. Adult life was truly an amalgamation of firsts; both unexpected and unwanted.

-

I knock on Haru's window, checking my watch. It occurs to me I've never used his front door alone; if we're home, we just use the fire escape, it's quicker.  
“Haru? It's almost 11, you ready?”  
“Just come in, it's open.”  
I slide the window open a ways; to be greeted by a shirtless Haru wriggling into some skinny jeans.  
The three coloured eyes of his tattoo stared as he hopped on the spot, forcing both legs into black denim. He seemed to be swearing under his breath.  
“I'll come back in a minute!” I squeaked, going for the window, but he grunted, waving a hand.  
“It's fine, these things haven't bested me yet,” he said, finally seeming to settle, wiggling a leg. He glanced around, and smirked slightly.  
“I guess we have different ideas of casual formal,” he said, slipping on a gray-and-black long-sleeve. I felt suddenly stuffy in my collared shirt.  
“How do you get that ironed look?” Haru asked, giving me an appraising eye, “neither of us own an iron.”  
“Uh, I hang it up?”  
“That'll do it,” he said, before his smile fell into a slightly worried look. He steps up to me, gazing under dark locks. He reaches up, and starts adjusting my collar.  
Oh.  
“That's better, one of us has to look presentable,” he said, looking around, presumably for his jacket, “though I don't think Rin is going to notice if either of his new friends are there.”  
“Sousuke?”  
“Ah, there it is,” Haru murmured, fishing a jacket from his rumpled bed covers and giving it a light shake. He shrugs as he puts it on.  
“Him and this Nitori guy, remember?” he says, smirking again, tugging at his ear. There's a new piercing there, a tiny blue spike stud in the middle of the lobe.   
“I try to forget about needles,” I reply, shuddering. How the shy, fragile-looking boy could be so casual around horrible sharp pointy things was beyond me.   
“Hmm, well, Rin does live above his shop so good luck,” Haru laughs, patting down his pockets, “and because he literally has no life expect most of the talk to be about it.”  
I groan, shuddering inwardly. I check my watch.  
“I don't want to be late, and you're going to need a scarf, Haru,” I admonish, as he opens the door in only his jeans and jacket. He gives me a look but I keep his stare.  
“I'll be fine.”  
“I think I have a spare one, I'll go get it,” I say, stepping outside. He shakes his head.  
“It's freezing! I'll be right back.”  
“Wait-” but I'm already halfway down the stairs when I hear his feet on the metal too. I heave open the heavy window, casting around for the navy scarf which I know is here somewhere, but where, god my apartment has gotten messy.  
Haru pokes his head through the curtains, looking disgruntled.  
“I don't need a scarf,” he mutters, as I rifle through my cupboard.   
“You say that, but what happens if you get a cold? I am terrible at cooking,” I reply, finally extricating a long woollen scarf.  
“Here!” I say, holding it out. Haru doesn't move, eyeing it.  
I step up to him and begin wrapping it around his neck, giggling as I let the end flop over his head. A single blue eye mock-glares up through the gap.  
“This way I can't hear your grumbling,” I say, taking his hand and pulling him to the window, “and scarves are cute on you!”

-

It takes 20 minutes to get to Rin's apartment, and another five waiting at the storefront trying not to look at the various examples on display for him to appear, grumbling that we should have just let ourselves in.  
“You have an alarm, Rin,” Haru reminds him, as we're lead up the tiny staircase; slightly dingy and smelling like paint. Rin tosses his hair and huffs.  
“Just put in the right code and you won't set it off like a dickhead,” he bites back, sharp teeth bared. Not going to lie, they still terrify me.  
“Passing out your store's security code is such a good idea.”  
“Are you telling me I shouldn't trust you?”  
“I'm telling you that you have a big mouth.”  
“Well you're-”  
Another head with a familiar shade of red sticks out from the living room, a scowl on her face.  
“Onii-chan, how about you put that big mouth to entertaining your guests, hmm?”  
“He wishes.”  
“Fuck you, Haru-”  
“Oh hi Makoto-kun!” the girl beams, bouncing up. She's the spit of her brother, albeit with a slightly softer face and a mouth full of regular teeth. Gou? Kou.  
“Hello, Kou-san,” you smile, watching Haru and Rin shoot glances at each other. It was never over. Gou, no, Kou, puts her arm in mine and pulls me into the living room proper, chattering excitedly.   
The living room is covered in a veritable explosion of decorations. Tinsel, paper chains, lights, even a small tree covered in glittery baubles. Sitting in the middle is a slightly bemused-looking Nitori, wearing a strangely tasteful Christmas sweater, blinking at them.  
“Hello, Haruka-san, Makoto-san,” he said shyly, smiling the tiniest fraction. Rising above the collar hugging his thin neck are the light grey tips of what I know is a very impressive, kind of initimidating tattoo of what Haru called “the horror of the deeps.” His eyes flick to the still-scowling Rin, looking nervous.  
“Onii-chan might think of himself an artist, but he's got no flair when it comes to interiors,” G-Kou said, “so I had to help him make this crappy apartment look somewhat festive.”  
“Oi, don't rag my apartment,” Rin says from the table, fixing some cushions. Kou rolls her eyes and pats my forearm.  
“Well, he's lucky to have me!”  
The buzzer rings from the hall and Rin groans.  
“That's probably Sousuke... just as I get all the way up here...” he grumbles.  
“Some host you are,” Haru snarks, stretching out on the lounge. Rin glares.  
“Do help yourself to the food, treasured guest,” he hisses, before disappearing down the hall.  
A silence, rather awkward, settled over the room. Haru seemed relaxed, but I stood nervously, unsure of what I was supposed to do. I had never spent a Christmas away from my family before, but to everyone here it seemed easy enough. I settled at the table, feeling more at ease as Kou gave me a brilliant smile.  
“Makoto-san?”  
The soft-spoken Nitori is smiling across from me, and he motions toward a teapot.  
“Would you like some tea? It's green and lemon,” he offered, and I beamed.  
“I would love some, Ai-kun, and please, just Makoto is fine.”  
He nods, and pours it out carefully, not spilling a single drop, and steam rises from the surface of the cup as he hands it to me. As I take it from his delicate fingers, I notice a grey ring fitted on his middle finger, and I look at it curiously. Ai pauses, before almost unconsciously twisting it with his left hand, not meeting my eyes.  
“I thought the ring finger was next to the pinky finger?” I say, staring at the backs of my hands, as if labels would appear there just because I thought about it. From the corner of my eye, I can see Haru's mouth quirk down just a little, before he closes his eyes.  
When I look back, Ai has tugged the edge of his sweater sleeve over his hand, and his face begs me not to ask, so I bite back the questions.   
“Rin's present is going to look terrible next to your jumper, Ai,” Kou says, “where did you get it?”  
Nitori looks grateful, a slight flush appearing on his cheeks as he tears his eyes away from mine to meet Gou- Kou's face. I think that her smile looks a little forced.  
“Shop back home, I thought I should wear something... festive,” he says softly, gazing out of the doorway, as Rin's voice is faintly heard at the bottom of the stairs.  
“Well yours is going to look the best!” Kou grins, and Haru suddenly sits up.  
“You.. got us all sweaters, didn't you?” and I suppress a giggle at the slight panic in his voice. Kou jumps up, rushing to the tree, and I barely have time to blink as she lobs brightly-papered presents at us. Both sail over past my head, hitting Haru in the chest with soft thumps, and he lets out a sound that I swear sounds like: oof!  
“Sorry, Haru-kun!” Kou laughs, as Rin and a broad-shouldered, black-haired man, his friend Sousuke, enter the room. Rin beams at us, smacking him on the shoulder.   
“You've met Sousuke before, right, Makoto?” he asks, and I smile and nod.  
“Hello, Sousuke-san,” I greet, brightly as I can. He has the same impassive resting face as Haru, intimidating and sort of naturally unfriendly-feeling. But his face is rougher, and he doesn't have Haru's expressive eyes, at least not to me. He still nods, smiling a little, raising a hand in greeting.  
“Hello, Makoto-kun,” he says politely, and Kou gives him a hug. He laughs, and his smile finally seems genuine.   
“Hello, Gou, wait, Kou, sorry,” he says, and Kou smacks him lightly on the arm, eerily reminiscent of her brother, scowling.   
“And don't forget it, Sou-kun!” she says primly. He turns his smile on Nitori, and I watch a look pass between them, Nitori's back straightening very slightly, his face turning from nervously warm, to a strange coolness, eyes fixed on Sousuke's with almost resolution. Sousuke's smile doesn't fall away, but it definitely lessens.  
“Hello, Ai,” he says, almost gently. I can't help but feel I am missing something major here.  
“We're you going to open presents without us, Gou?” Rin mock-gasps, clenching a fist over his heart. Kou gives him an irritated look.  
“Well, you managed to find your way back up here, so I guess not,” Haru interjects, but he leans over to his bag and starts pulling out gifts.  
“Here, Ai, Rin.”  
“Your present better not be shit,” Rin said, quirking an eyebrow at Haru's impeccably wrapped gift, gingerly sniffing it. Did... did Haru actually give him shit once? What.  
He tears off the wrapping,   
“Oh... thanks!” he says, sounding surprised, poring over the box. It's label states something about sharks, mega-something.   
“Rin collects teeth,” Haru offers, shaking his head, “they make him feel more at home.”  
Rin grunts, apparently too engrossed with his gift to care about the jab. I look at Ai; having just unwrapped Haru's gift, smiling and fiddling with it.   
“Oh, thankyou, Haru-k-, I mean, Haru,” he says happily, and takes out the three earrings in his left ear. I watch him fit the new earpiece with deft fingers; tentacles that burst through the lobe and wrap all the way along the cartilage. He smiles as his fingers ghost it.  
“You're welcome,” Haru replies, before handing me a green-wrapped gift. It feels soft.  
“Rin! Open my present now!” Kou cries, lobbing a gift his way.  
Rin looks at her warily as a coloured bundle bounces off Sousuke.  
“Oops!”  
“It's a fucking sweater, isn't it?”  
“Maybe!”  
“Makoto?” Haru asks, and I watch in my peripherals as a look of disgust overcomes Rin's features.   
I carefully pull the ribbon off, fiddling with the tape. Rin begins to waggle his arms, shouting, as Gou forces him into a bright red jumper, appearing to be covered in snowflakes and reindeer. I giggle, but I suddenly feel softness, and in the shiny emerald paper is a new scarf, a lovely orange colour. As I lift it out, I see a lump at one end, and trailing cloth at the other. I spread it out curiously.  
It's a cat! On a scarf! My mouth drops open as I grab one end, an adorable cat's head, with two little paws hanging behind it. At the other end is the tail, and the two back paws.  
“Haru!” I say excitedly, “it's so... cute!”  
He's smiles gently at me, eyes seeming to reflect my happiness.   
“I'm glad you like it,” he said quietly. I pick up his gift, but my hand trembles nervously as he goes to take it.   
“I hope you like mine,” I almost whisper, and he delicately pulls the paper apart, revealing the flat box inside. He opens it.   
“Oh! Wow!” Kou says from behind him, craning her neck to peer over Haru's shoulder. He is silent, staring at the gift. He slides a careful hand in, lifting it; a necklace with a black leather thread, with a silver dolphin pendant. The dolphin is in mid-jump, curled around a small, rounded chunk of what the jeweller called moonstone. She said the blue/white rock was a “water element” and was supposed to be given to someone you care about. I decide not to say that right now.  
“D-do you like it?” I ask, trying to gauge his reaction. He looks up at me, and I freeze.  
“Moonstone,” he states quietly, before a small, genuine smile quirks his lips. He gazes at the small sea creature in his hand.  
“I love it,” he murmurs, scooting forward, unclipping it and holding it out. I brush back his hair and put it around his neck, my heart thumping as he touches it with his fingers.  
“Get a room!” Rin groans, but Haru fixes a serious look on him.  
“Your room?” he asks, and my entire face goes red. Not at someone else's house! Haru sees the look on my face as Rin splutters.  
“I'm joking,” he laughs, kissing me on the cheek. My heart seems to swoon and I feel myself smiling like an idiot. Haru seems pleased at this effect, patting me on the thigh.  
“Rin's room is too messy, no way,” he continues, and Rin looks indignant.  
“Do you open your eyes when you get home? Selective blindness?”   
“Hmph,” Haru says, settling against my chest and nibbling at a gingerbread biscuit. He raises an eyebrow, “nice sweater.”  
Rin apparently lost his battle, his chest emblazoned with images of dancing reindeer. Kou gives him a warning look as he grips the hem, he slowly releases his fingers, raising them in surrender.   
“Put yours on, Makoto-kun!” she says enthusiastically, throwing a look at Haru. He sighs and shuffles forward, and I peel off my jumper. I hear a gasp as my head is tangled in the cloth, and when I manage to get it off, Kou, Haru, and Sousuke are giving me appraising looks. Kou's eyes are positively starry as she gapes at my arms.  
“I've never seen you without a jumper, Makoto-kun!” she says enthusiastically, before turning to Haru, “why didn't you tell me about his muscles Haru-kun?!”  
“Haru, and because of this right now,” he replies, and Kou appears mesmerised as I reach over for the sweater, staring at my arms.  
“Makoto-kun,” she groans, “can I look at your back?”  
“No!”  
“No.”  
I blink at Haru, and he looks resolute, eyes narrowed at Kou, and she lowers her hands from their hoveirng in front of my shirt buttons, backing off. I quickly pull the sweater on; it's a nice, dark green, with a cartoony santa clause doing some sort of jig on the front. It's horrendously ugly. Kou shakes Haru's sweater, a blue and green monstrosity with bells on the sleeves, and it jingles in front of his unimpressed face.  
“Come on, you killjoy! Put it on!” she gushes, and chucks a present at Sousuke, “you too! Everyone will wear my wonderful gifts!”  
“While you're at it,” Rin says, a sly grin on his face, “open mine.”  
Kou opens the wrapping gingerly, and gasps in horror. Haru and Rin bark with laughter as a white sweater covered in trees, presents, and tiny santas falls onto her lap, covered in tiny baubles. All the colours clash, and Kou's mouth twists in distaste. But she sets her jaw, removing her jumper and shoving the sweater with unnecessary force onto her torso. She smirks at Haru and Sousuke, wagging her finger.  
“I went there, now put the goddamn sweaters on.”

-

Haru and Rin eventually get a handle on the dinner, which mostly involves Haru moving around Rin's kitchen as if it were his own, and Rin telling him he can't keep trying to cook fish.   
“We're having chicken, you fishfucker!” he all but screamed at one point, making Sousuke roll his eyes and Ai go bright red.   
“I don't cook roast chicken...” Haru had muttered in response, glaring at the oven. Rin smacked his palm against his head.  
“Then get out of my goddamn kitchen!”  
When the food eventually came out, I was relieved to find it to not be mackerel, but a positively delicious-looking chicken, roast vegetables, gravy and greens. I settled in between Haru and Ai to eat, Kou bobbing excitedly across from me. Soon everyone had their plates piled with food, and Rin had seen it fit to break out the alcohol.  
Sousuke was questioning Ai about his piercing work, I decided to tune that out; Rin and Gou were arguing about an argument, and my head began to hurt a bit. Haru lightly touched my arm, smiling, holding something in his chopsticks.  
“Have you tried these, yet? Rin based a lot of this on food he tried overseas,” Haru said, proffering a pea. I had heard a lot about Rin's stay in Australia; years ago, but long enough that he spoke English fluently, and had a taste for western food.  
“No, but I'll-” Haru shakes his head when I pick up my chopsticks, instead putting his near my mouth. A shock goes through me, and I blush as I open my mouth. The vegetable tastes pleasantly of mint.   
G-Kou is giving us a winning smile and an exaggerated wink. Rin's face is closer to “no.”  
“Stop rubbing my single status in my face,” Rin growls, stabbing his chicken with too much force. Next to him, Ai jerks his hand to his head, sweeping his silver hair out of his eyes. Haru sighs next to me.  
“I'll make it up to you later,” he murmurs in my ear, making my neck tingle pleasantly.   
Rin and Sousuke go through most of the alcohol themselves, but they manage to goad Haru into shots, and I watch as all three of them start to down little nips of pure vodka. Haru has the presence of mind to not join in on the second bottle, however, and wraps us in a blanket as we all watch them get increasingly out of it, singing and shouting and drinking.  
Soon, as the last of the sunlight disappears, and the glow of the city wars with the coloured lights of the tree, Rin and Sousuke fall asleep in a little heap together, snoozing and drooling over Rin's couch cushions. Gou stretches out on the other lounge, grumbling as the baubles of her sweater dig into her back.   
I cuddle Haru in my arms; he's wrapped the scarf around my neck and head, and the rise and fall of his chest feels calming. I fall into a half-doze, only waking up when I hear Ai and Haru talking in low voices.  
“-ru, I really should... go.”  
I blink, registering Haru's absent weight, looking towards the door. Ai is wrapped in his winter clothes; a dark grey coat over his sweater, and a thick blue scarf around his neck. Haru is standing by him; and I'm struck by the hopeless sadness on Ai's face as he gazes past him. I follow his eyes to the tangle of Sousuke and Rin, still snoring together in alcohol-induced slumber.   
“It's late, just stay,” Haru insists, “We'll move these other jackasses into their rooms, and I know where Rin keeps his spare futon.”  
“No... I really can't, Haru-kun, I'll be fine, really.”  
Haru sighs.  
“I'll get Makoto and we can walk you-”  
“No.”  
Ai frowns slightly.  
“Thankyou, but no, I just... want to be alone.”  
Haru opens his mouth but Ai shakes his head, turning and quickly walking off down the hall.   
“Fuck...”  
“Haru?”  
He jumps a little, but relaxes as he meets my eyes, sinking onto the cushions we've commandeered.  
“Is Ai okay?” I whisper, and Haru frowns, shaking his head. His cheeks are still a little red.  
“He and Rin are going to have to talk... eventually,” he mutters, “Rin's not great at talking. He's better at doing. Which explains... whatever's going on there.”  
He jerks his thumb at Sousuke.  
“It's not my business who he sleeps with, I just feel bad for that kid, he's so goddamn... earnest.”  
I sigh. I feel bad for Ai and Rin and Sousuke, but they're away or asleep, and I all I can think of in my tired haze is Haru.  
“They need to... figure it out, I guess,” I say ineffectually.   
“Hmm, they do.”  
He suddenly kisses me lightly on the nose; sweetly. I blink. He gives me a small smile.  
“Makoto,” he murmurs, “it's hard to... worry... with you looking at me like that.”  
The lights from the tree dance in his eyes, and I can smell his musk and the scent of salt and food from him. He still looks worried, and my heartbeats feel slightly guilty as my forefront concern becomes his happiness.  
“That sweater is terrible,” I whisper, kissing him back. He looks slightly offended.  
“So's yours,” he replies, and curls his hands into my back, pressing his forehead into said awful sweater.   
“Merry Christmas, Haru.”  
“Merry Christmas, Makoto.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> therewillbecubes.tumblr.com  
> Merry Christmas to all!

**Author's Note:**

> catch me at therewillbecubes.tumblr.com


End file.
